


Petals

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related, Gap Filler, Points of View, Romance, Short, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-27
Updated: 2004-12-27
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian doesn't do flowers; drabble; for "msaramat".





	Petals

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

_I want certain words more than a thousand flowers._ \-- "Flowers", Cibo Matto

* * *

Pittsburgh winters are colder than a witch's tit, his father used to say, but Brian has long become accustomed to the brisk night air. Not everything does, though, and he's surprised to see a flower vendor peddling his goods on a street corner downtown. It's almost chilly enough for his nose hairs to be freezing on their own accord, but Brian puts a bouquet up to his nostrils and still inhales the sweet aroma of roses. "They're very beautiful," the vendor enthuses, and Brian thinks about Justin's face when he discovers them sitting on the dining room table in the loft. Hell, he could scatter the petals on the duvet and smell Justin's sweet and seed and roses all at once, and the kid would be delirious with happiness.

Brian thinks about how happy little things like flowers and "I love yous" make most people. 'Unnecessary sentimental bullshit', he thinks, 'a way of making somebody feel obligated until they're miserable as hell.' He inhales sharply and the air does sting this time. "No thanks," he tells the vendor, handing back the bouquet. 'No fucking thanks', he thinks, and continues home, empty-handed and tight-lipped.


End file.
